Another Confession From the Bathroom

By Katiedid Langrock

April 4, 2020 5 min read

Confession No. 2,011

Topic: coronavirus

I tried to eat the children. It was a mistake. They were tough and rubbery, probably from all of the jumping on the trampoline they've been doing for the past two weeks. I couldn't even sink my teeth in. I know it's only been 55 minutes since my most recent confession, but you see, they were playing a game of "not it" followed immediately by "I'm not touching you" — a game comically misnamed, given the onslaught of slapping that ensues. Clearly, the attempt to eat them was out of my control. Perhaps I could try to fatten them up first like the witch in "Hansel and Gretel." But that would require letting them back inside the house. That would not do. Sanity forbids it. But worry not; they are safely tramping around the yard, looking for the yellow-spotted fuzzy lizard that I swear I saw (and just made up), and I'm sucking on Breath Savers I found in the pocket of the old pajamas that I've been wearing for three days straight and that are most definitely over a decade old. We are fine.

I'm glad I get these bathroom breaks. It's the only door in the house that locks and actually makes the game "I'm not touching you" true to its name. But as I sit here in my solitude on the toilet, I can't help but think about all the people who are not fine — even less fine than the woman writing down notes as she reads stories of gingerbread houses owned by witches to her kids at night. It's hard not to think about all the people less fortunate than we are, the folks who have lost their jobs and the small-business owners who have lost their businesses. Some of these folks aren't even getting the media attention they deserve.

Take the poor local neighborhood burglar. You know the guy (or gal). A stolen television here. A nice necklace from Betsy down the street there. The cash from under Carl's mattress gone. (Then again, does anyone really trust Crazy Carl?) But now that everyone is home all the time, what's the friendly neighborhood burglar to do? He comes into your home when you are NOT there. That's how the business model works. Did the government consider funds for the small-business burglars in its bailout? Sure, you think, the burglar can just burgle cars in the meantime; no one is in cars anymore. True, but this also means no one is in a car to leave a wallet in it by accident anymore. C'mon, people! We really need to think this through!

If the burglars fall, what are we good law-abiding citizens going to do when the coronavirus leaves us in a lurch? In any book I've read or movie I've watched, the protagonist (psst, that's you), when faced with losing everything, does a bit of burgling to get by. That's our future. I guess a burglar in a bind could always expand to robbing liquor stores, but you know those places are far too packed to perform an adequate stickup at a federally mandated 6-to-10-foot distance between people. And really, what kind of monster would rob a liquor store at this time? Liquor stores are the real heroes of this pandemic; even our local neighborhood house burglar knows that.

This is just more proof that the people who benefit in times of crisis are the 1% and the illegal elite — not the little guy who sells cash-in-hand marijuana by the gram but the dudes in suits who leave $10 million in cash in a briefcase for some other guy to pick up. Social distancing achieved (and, let's hope, transacted with latex gloves and a dousing of Clorox afterward). No one leaves a briefcase behind a trash bin for a money exchange of $8.

The children have decided that the antique couch from my grandmother is more fun to jump on than the trampoline and that the flat-screen TV is more fun to hit balls against than the pingpong table. There will be nothing left in one piece for the burglar to steal once his business is back up. I guess that means our time together has ended. But fear not, dear sanctuary. Because of my increased patronage of the friendly neighborhood liquor stores, I will need to use the loo again in one more beer's time. Until my next confession.

Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at

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